No matter how I write this, you won’t believe it. All I ask is that you don’t throw this away...just consider it.
There are people looking for you. They know what you can do. They must not find you. If they do, they will hurt us both, and so many more.
Don’t trust anyone. Run. Stay hidden. Our time’s almost up.
I turned it over and glanced at the blank back. There was no greeting and no closing. Just an unsigned note. My eyes fell on the one sentence that truly concerned me. “They know what you can do,” I murmured.
The microwave beeped. I used a magnet to stick the letter to the refrigerator and drifted to my room to change. Dressed in Spandex shorts and a tight exercise tank top, I padded out to the living room and ignored the cooling dinner that waited for me. I slipped on my gloves to protect my knuckles and started exercising my demons.
The idea that someone might know about me didn’t scare me. I found it amusing. No one really knew but Ethan. My parents had their own ideas about me—how could they not after raising me? But their suspicions weren’t close. They thought I exuded positive energy. I’d like to blame their hippie thoughts on their habits in the sixties and seventies, but they weren’t that old. The reality of what I did wasn’t that I released positive anything. It was the exact opposite it seemed.
I mostly siphoned negative emotions. But if I wanted, I could pull the positive ones too. I felt what the people around me felt. Like sampling ice cream, their emotions had different flavors letting me know their moods. Unfortunately, the siphoning wasn’t voluntary. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t completely turn it off. But, boy, could I turn it on. If I wanted, I could drain a room in two heartbeats. Taking away all that negativity made the people around me happy, but did the opposite for me. The more I siphoned, the less I felt like myself. I grew agitated, angry even. My skin tingled the more I absorbed until it felt painfully tight. The only thing that helped relieve it was physical activity.
I hit the bag, timing the back swing and setting a grueling rhythm. Who would ever think someone could do what I could do...and why would they come after me?
Good luck to whoever thought they could take me, I thought. I’d leave them on the floor with a gap-toothed smile.